Indeed, if we had not caulked her with some dried moss and some stiff clay, it is doubtful if she would have floated far.  The well was full of dead leaves that had been killed by the caterpillars and the blight, and had fallen from the trees before their time; and there were one or two bunches of grass growing at the stern part from between the decaying planks.

Besides the gun there was the Indian bow, scooped out inside in a curious way, and covered with strange designs or coloured hieroglyphics:  it had been brought home by one of our people years before.  There was but one man in the place who could bend that bow effectually; so that though we valued it highly we could not use it.  By it lay another of briar, which was pliable enough and had brought down more than one bird.

Orion hit a rabbit once; but though sore wounded it got to the bury, and, struggling in, the arrow caught the side of the hole and was drawn out.  Indeed, a nail filed sharp is not of much avail as an arrowhead; you must have it barbed, and that was a little beyond our skill.  Ikey the blacksmith had forged us a spearhead after a sketch from a picture of a Greek warrior; and a rake-handle served as a shaft.  It was really a dangerous weapon.  He had also made us a small anchor according to plan; nor did he dip too deeply into our pocket-money.

Then the mast and square-sail, fitted out of a window-blind, took up a considerable space; for although it was perfectly calm, a breeze might arise.  And what with these and the pole for punting occasionally, the deck of the vessel was in that approved state of confusion which always characterises a ship on the point of departure.  Nor must Orion’s fishing-rod and gear be forgotten, nor the cigar-box at the stern (a present from the landlady at the inn) which contained a chart of the mere and a compass.

With a ‘yeo—­heave-ho!’ we levered her an inch at a time, and then loosened her by working her from side to side, and so, panting and struggling, shoved the punt towards the deep.  Slowly a course was shaped out of the creek—­past the bar and then along the edge of the thick weeds, stretching so far out into the water that the moorhen feeding near the land was beyond reach of shot.  From the green matted mass through which a boat could scarcely have been forced came a slight uncertain sound, now here now yonder, a faint ‘suck-sock;’ and the dragon-flies were darting to and fro.

The only ripple of the surface, till broken by the sculls, was where the swallows dipped as they glided, leaving a circle of tiny wavelets that barely rolled a yard.  Past the low but steep bluff of sand rising sheer out of the water, drilled with martins’ holes and topped by a sapling oak in the midst of a great furze bush:  yellow bloom of the furze, tall brake fern nestling under the young branches, woodbine climbing up and bearing sweet coronals of flower.

Past the barley that came down to the willows by the shore—­ripe and white under the bright sunshine, but yonder beneath the shadow of the elms with a pale tint of amber.  Past broad rising meadows, where under the oaks on the upper ground the cattle were idly lying out of the sultry heat.